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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29461551">In My Veins</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dervila/pseuds/Dervila'>Dervila</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakeandmoon/pseuds/Z%20A%20Dusk'>Z A Dusk (snakeandmoon)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Feels, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley First Kiss (Good Omens), Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Community: Do It With Style Events, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Gentleness, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, a little true form stuff as a treat, aziraphale is anxious and crowley is patient and gentle, but really we're talking the most softlit true form sex ever, just a pair of pining sweethearts really, just light angst though, loving a demon has interesting side effects, rated m because I'm cautious, softness dial up to the max</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:09:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,057</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29461551</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dervila/pseuds/Dervila, https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakeandmoon/pseuds/Z%20A%20Dusk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Since ancient times, Aziraphale has noticed tiny physical changes in response to Crowley’s presence. He treasures each one as being part of the person he loves - but worries that he’s stealing something from Crowley unawares. Will he find the courage to tell Crowley the truth and explore a deeper connection with him?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>121</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>320</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Do It With Style Good Omens Reverse Bang, Ixnael’s Recommendations, Our Own Side</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. All That You Rely On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My third Do It With Style Events Reverse Bang Piece.</p><p><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dervila">Dervila's</a> gorgeous art inspired me so much, and I'm glad I got to bring it to life! When I saw them in front of the mirror, looking so solemn and Crowley especially so gentle and concerned, I knew I wanted to write something soft and loving. And In My Veins was born.</p><p>Thank you to my wonderful beta <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraworos">Mira</a>, who has been absolutely amazing at dealing with the avalanche of fic I threw at her during this event. </p><p>Fic is complete and will post every Monday.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The silence of the night slowly became the silence of the early morning, and Aziraphale still hadn’t risen from Crowley’s gothic throne. “<em>Make yourself comfortable, angel</em>,” the demon had said. “<em>Miracle a sofa or something if you want, I don’t mind.</em>”</p><p>Normally he would have taken the demon up on the offer. He would have miracled a modest but comfy overstuffed armchair, and pulled some books from his thankfully restored bookshop. Earl Grey tea and malted milk biscuits might have been involved.</p><p>There certainly would have been some cushions or blankets, most likely tartan. </p><p>But on this night, Aziraphale couldn’t reach for any of his usual comforts. Everything felt too small, too mundane, too insubstantial against the swell of emotions inside him.</p><p>They were, for now, free. And even though his bookshop was restored, he hadn’t wanted to be alone. Hadn’t wanted to be without Crowley. And so, as they strolled through Berkeley Square after their celebratory meal, he had found himself fidgeting and sighing, and being perhaps less attentive than he would have liked.</p><p>“Out with it, angel,” Crowley had said at last. “Look, sorry if I upset you with my talk of all of us vs all of them. Y’know me, demon, gotta spread a bit of discomfort. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”</p><p>“That’s quite alright.” Aziraphale gave him a quick smile. “It’s only that, well, after everything we have just been through, I find myself not terribly enamoured of being alone. Might you want some company for a while longer?”</p><p>Crowley had given him that smile then, the one that started as a lopsided quirk and ended with a smile that lit up his face. It was dazzling. Aziraphale hoped he would be able to make Crowley smile like that for a long time. </p><p>Aziraphale sighed at the memory, leaning back against the throne. He had to pull himself together. They’d survived. When it came to the important moment, they’d come through for each other. </p><p>Pushing himself from the throne, Aziraphale wandered to the bathroom. He would splash some cold water on his face, and then he would see about fixing some kind of breakfast for when Crowley woke up. Something that he could easily keep warm, or cold, with a quick miracle. Crowley did like his sleep. In fact, Aziraphale may not see his friend for some hours yet.</p><p>The bathroom was spacious and sleek, tiled with black marble that had the faintest silver glitter, like a night sky. The fixtures were bright chrome that wouldn’t have looked out of place on some sort of extraterrestrial vessel. The showerhead was large, and looked like it would deliver quite the soaking. </p><p>There was something so personal about being in Crowley’s space. Whenever the demon visited the bookshop, he stayed to the shop floor and the backroom. Aziraphale had never invited him upstairs.</p><p>Walking over to the smooth marble hollow of the sink, Aziraphale filled the basin with cold water. There was a soft black washcloth beside the sink - hopefully Crowley wouldn't mind if he used it? Picking it up, Aziraphale soaked it in the cool water, and used it to wet his neck and forehead, hoping the sensation would clear his mind a bit. </p><p>He couldn’t stop thinking about Crowley. That was, in itself, not unusual. Crowley was never far from his mind. His opposite number, his rival … his counterpart, and finally, his friend. But this was different. This was … Aziraphale could only describe it as “longing.”</p><p>Seeing Crowley, his Crowley, dragged away by Heaven’s “best” had been the most terrifying experience of his long life. Even though they had a plan. Even though he’d mostly trusted it would work. All he’d been able to think about during the trial in Hell was what Heaven might be doing to Crowley and whether or not they would guess that it was, in fact, Crowley and not Aziraphale that they’d captured.</p><p>Dinner at the Ritz had been breezy and chatty and slightly manic in the way things can only be after narrowingly escaping something terrible. But now, here he was, in Crowley’s bathroom, his nerves shot and his heart aching with all the things he wanted to say to Crowley, and wasn’t sure how to voice.</p><p>Shaking his head at himself, Aziraphale splashed his face with water again, then straightened up to meet his own reflection in the mirror. He looked older than he had last night, somehow, drawn by the sudden worry that was clawing at his insides.</p><p>They’d talked about the bandstand before they’d switched places. Aziraphale had felt that he couldn’t bear to die, if that was to be the outcome, without telling Crowley how sorry he was. Crowley had been so gentle, reassuring the angel that he understood. Aziraphale was deeply grateful for his understanding but it was hard not to mull it over still. Aziraphale’s mind kept wandering back to the first fight they’d ever had, the first time they'd encountered each other after the Ark. </p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>“Are you alright, Crawly?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Of course I’m not alright! Look around you. All those people drowned, and for what? Because they didn’t follow the letter of Her law? Playthings, that’s all any of them are to Her.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s the ineff-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t you dare,” Crawly had snapped, cutting him off with a gesture. “There’s no excuse for whatever this was. She doesn’t care about anyone.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Crawly, how can you say that?” Aziraphale walked faster to catch up to the demon, who’d been storming ahead. The hot sand of the desert reflected the heat of the sun, making Aziraphale squint. “God is love …”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“God is love?” Crawly turned and stared at him as if he’d lost his mind, vivid yellow eyes boring into Aziraphale’s. “Tell that to the people who died choking on floodwater. Tell that to the million angels who had to drag themselves out of burning sulphur.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Falling was a choice. No one had to rebel.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Crawly looked at him in silence for a long moment, then gave an exasperated growl and stalked off. Aziraphale rushed to catch up.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Crawly, I didn’t mean that you … that you …”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Deserved it? Yes you did. You know, I thought you were different. I thought you saw me as an equal, but you’re the same as the rest of them. All you see is a demon. You look at my snake eyes and my black wings, and you see something corrupted.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Crawly, please. Let’s talk about this.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Nothing to talk about.” Crawly snarled, and was gone before Aziraphale could say anything else.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Shaking the memory off as best he could, Aziraphale looked up at the mirror and noticed to his shock that his pupils had narrowed, like Crowley’s, snake-like. With a soft cry of surprise, he leaned forward to touch the glass, as if it was another Aziraphale in there, one who was much more like Crowley than the real-world Aziraphale. One who understood the demon. He blinked, and the effect was gone. Well, that was new. He’d had some odd manifestations of his connection with Crowley before, but not this particular one - </p><p>“Alright, then, angel?”</p><p>Aziraphale was startled back to the present, and looked up to see Crowley’s reflection beside his own.</p><p>“Crowley, honestly! Have you not heard of knocking?”</p><p>The demon shrugged and gave him an insouciant grin. “It’s my bathroom,” he said, then when Aziraphale blustered, he quickly added “Felt you worrying, angel. Gets like that sometimes, when your emotions are especially strong. Just wanted to check on you.”</p><p>“Oh … I see. Well, that’s very kind of you.”</p><p>“Not kind." Crowley chided, but he was smiling at Aziraphale's reflection. "Come on then. What’s on your mind? Worried about them coming back? I think we’re safe enough for a bit. Sounds like you put the fear of, well, me, into Downstairs.”</p><p>“Actually,” Aziraphale looked at Crowley’s reflection, finding it easier than facing the demon directly. “I was thinking about that time in Mesopotamia, when we had the argument about … about angels making the choice to rebel.”</p><p>Crowley gave him a blank look.</p><p>“I said that rebellion was a choice,” Aziraphale pushed on miserably. “Made you feel like I saw you as corrupted, and I didn’t mean to, Crowley, I swear …”</p><p>“What?” Crowley’s brow furrowed. “Angel, I barely remember. That was literally millennia ago. And you’ve called me worse since.”</p><p>Crowley looked as shocked as Aziraphale felt when a choked sob escaped the angel’s throat.</p><p>“Angel?” Crowley put a hand carefully on Aziraphale’s back, rubbing slow, warm circles. They’d never touched like this, and the sensation made the angel’s head spin.</p><p>“I haven’t treated you well,” Aziraphale said, staring down at the sink now. “I kept throwing your nature in your face like an accusation. When you … when you walked away that day after the Ark, I longed to follow you, but I wasn’t certain I would be welcome, and I … I …”</p><p>“Half-believed what you were saying? I know that now, angel. Look, I was out to pick a fight with any denizen of Heaven back then. Didn’t know you well. But I know you now, Aziraphale. You had to toe the party line. I get it, and I’m not upset with you.”</p><p>“I like your eyes,” Aziraphale said suddenly, softly. It seemed important that Crowley know, even though his heart was pounding as he heard himself speak the words.</p><p>“You what?”</p><p>“I like your eyes. Always did.” Aziraphale looked up then, to meet those eyes in the mirror, Crowley’s gaze questioning. “I always thought they were very striking. I like them very much.”</p><p>Crowley gave an impossibly soft smile at that, those golden eyes holding Aziraphale’s reflected gaze for several long seconds. Then, he squeezed Aziraphale's shoulder gently, pulling him a little closer, until Aziraphale turned from the mirror and looked at Crowley.</p><p>“C’mon, angel. Let’s get breakfast.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments are fuel for hungry authors - I'd love to hear your thoughts ♥</p><p> </p><p>  <b>Behind the scenes notes</b></p><p> </p><p>When I started thinking about what might be happening behind the scenes of the art, I started thinking that maybe it was something to do with their connection, and the fragile business of confessing feelings and getting together. I suggested to Devila that maybe they connected more deeply than Crowley even realised, and Aziraphale is unsure how to tell him. She liked it, and here we are!</p><p>You all know that some of my Crowleys  / Aziraphales (Hi CC!!) are wilful buggers who just show up and won't go away. Sometimes they remind me of other versions I've written, to the point where I'm like "yeah ok, same fellow, different story." Others, like this one, I'm not sure where they come from, but they pop up for one fic and say what they want to say. Mira described him as the opposite of Heavensbloom Crowley and that's spot on! I think perhaps this anxious Aziraphale needed a particularly gentle Crowley to help him.</p><p>The title came from In My Veins by Andrew Belle, which you can listen to <a href="https://youtu.be/q0KZuZF01FA"> here</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Nobody Here's Perfect</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As Aziraphale contemplates telling Crowley the whole truth about their unintended connection, his mind drifts back to the first time he knew he wanted to call Crowley home, a very, very long time ago.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale sighed and rolled onto his back. He’d felt restless since he and Crowley had gone out for breakfast five days ago. Crowley had phoned him a couple of times, and they’d arranged to go to the British Museum that Saturday, followed by dinner.</p><p>In the interim, Aziraphale felt unsettled enough that he’d even tried taking a nap, just to see if it did anything for his racing thoughts. He’d been lying on his bed for an hour, and so far it was far less relaxing than reading a book.</p><p>Maybe he should tell Crowley? But how on earth would he frame it? How do you tell someone you’ve known for six thousand years that you’ve seen inside their very soul, and still can’t recover from the beauty of it? How do you tell them that you carry part of them with you, in the most literal of ways?</p><p>They hadn’t really talked about the body swap, after. The switch back had been practical, quick, just another day on the job for an ancient being with many powers. Aziraphale felt certain Crowley would be open to the discussion, but he didn’t know how to begin it. Crowley had never been one for long emotional declarations, and Aziraphale had kept his feelings close to his chest out of fear for both their safety. He couldn’t imagine making the transition to spilling forth the fact that when they'd swapped corporations, he'd felt like he’d touched the demon’s essence, that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, that he would give Crowley his entire self just to get to see him like that again.</p><p>And even if he could find the courage, he was afraid that if they got closer, Crowley would discover the whole truth: That Aziraphale already had part of his energy--stolen, not on purpose, but stolen nevertheless.</p><p>Crowley would likely be quite shocked to see his fussy, sometimes snippy, friend making a momentous love declaration. Probably best not to.</p><p>Giving up on rest, Aziraphale got up and made his way to the kitchen, where he put the kettle on the hob and dug out his tin of Earl Grey tea. When the tea was brewed, he settled into his favourite chair. </p><p>When had he first known that he wanted to be close to Crowley, in the way the humans were close? That he wanted to touch him, hold him close, call Crowley home?</p><p><em>Babylon</em>, he thought, as his mind drifted back--the same time his form started shifting in subtle ways. </p><hr/><p>
  <em>It was just after an immense dust storm, when the air was so arid and gritty that Aziraphale was relieved he didn’t need to breathe. He’d been sent to a small village to bless some people who had fallen ill with a fever. His healing work was done, and he was wandering just outside of the village, contemplating where he might go next. He knew he had some time before he had to return to Heaven for his next instructions, and he was enjoying exploring the world, watching as the human race developed and found ways to coexist with nature.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He hadn’t been searching for Crawly. But nor was he disappointed to see the demon sitting under a palm tree, leaning against the trunk. Without a second thought, Aziraphale climbed the small, steep slope to join him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hello, Crawly.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The demon looked up, and a slow smile crept across his sharp features.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hello, Aziraphale. Up to good deeds, then?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Finished my good deeds for the day.” Aziraphale offered a small smile as he sat down next to Crawly. “What are you doing here?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Spreading dissent and discord, obviously.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Obviously. Is there something wrong with your wings?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It wasn’t unusual to see Crawly with his wings out back in those days, but Aziraphale noticed that the demon seemed uncomfortable, poking at his wings and ruffling the feathers, irritably repositioning them now and again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Blasted dust,” Crawly sighed. “Huge sandstorm. Didn’t you see it?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I was healing a few sick children, so I kept the village sheltered from untoward events such as sandstorms. It occurs to me now that the storm may have been more intense elsewhere because of that.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Great,” Crawly said sarcastically, but there was no real bite to it.</em>
  <br/>
  
  <br/>
  <em>“I’m terribly sorry. Would you like me to groom them? I know how hard it is to reach one’s entire wing.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Crawly’s eyes widened and his grin turned wicked. “What would Heaven think of that?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Probably not much worse than they already think of my love of food, and stories,” Aziraphale told him honestly, and perhaps with a slight trace of bitterness. “Besides, I got you into this state. It’s only right that I help.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Crawly hesitated a moment longer, his expression inscrutable. Then he seemed to come to some sort of decision, shrugged, and said, “Sure, why not?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Turn around then,” Aziraphale said. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Crawly complied, staring out over the dry, sandy landscape, as Aziraphale found himself face to feather with a pair of beautiful black wings. He paused for a moment, suddenly aware that he and Crawly had never quite touched. They’d stood close, he’d even put his wing over the demon, but he’d never put his hands on him. With a steadying breath, Aziraphale put his hands on Crawly’s wings, gently passing them down the wing arches, letting himself feel out the shape and weight of them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>When Crawly flinched slightly, Aziraphale immediately lifted his hands away from the black feathers. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What? Nah. Wings have been a bit sensitive since the Fall.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I hadn’t … hadn’t thought.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Why would you? You didn’t fall. No cause to think about it.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Still, I might have asked you about it.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Crawly laughed, making his wings shiver slightly. Aziraphale found the movement of them captivating. “Blasted awkward conversation that would have been. S’fine, Aziraphale. Don’t worry about it - I’m glad of the help.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aziraphale tentatively reached out and put his hands on Crowley’s wings again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You can ask, you know,” Crowley continued. “If you want to know why I fell. I can tell you’re curious.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Am I that easy to read?” Aziraphale ran his hands more carefully over Crawly’s wings, trying to ignore the way it made him shiver when the demon gave a sigh of pleasure.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Nah. Snake-like senses. I can taste physical changes, heart rate, temperature, stuff like that. Helps me figure out how you’re feeling. Sorry, that sounded less invasive in my head.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No trouble, dear fellow,” Aziraphale said lightly, though his heart was racing at that moment. He wondered what Crawly might deduce from that? Would he guess at the truth, that Aziraphale was finding touching the demon impossibly enticing? That he couldn’t keep from wondering what it would feel like to move from Crawly’s wings to the sensitive skin between them? That he wanted to slide his hands under the demon’s robe and find out if he felt as warm as Aziraphale suspected he would? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Asked too many questions,” Crawly said, thankfully interrupting Aziraphale’s thoughts. “What’s the use in giving creatures the gift of life if you’re planning to destroy them and their planet anyway? Why create angels with no free will? Isn’t that just arrogant?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Crawly, that’s blasphemy!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Well, yeah, that’s kind of the point. Asking those questions is forbidden, because open discussion is a sin, curiosity is unsanctified, and daring to think for yourself is insurrection. I asked the wrong questions, I got involved with other people who were asking the wrong questions, and here we are.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Why did … why did falling make your wings black? I assume they were white before?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yeah, same as all angels. They burned. When I fell it was like … like the sulphur burned away my wings and just left the blackened bones behind. The feathers regrew, but like this. Black and a bit ragged. They’re a bit oversensitive. Probably why the dust bothers me so much.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m so sorry.” Aziraphale thought of his own wings, tried to imagine them burning away. The pain must have been unbearable. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Shaking his head, trying not to think too hard about the cruelty of it from a God that was supposed to be loving, he focused on combing his fingers through Crawly's feathers as gently as he could. When he started brushing his fingers carefully over every barb and vane, dislodging the sand and smoothing the ruffled feathers, Crawly made a soft sound of pleasure and Aziraphale realised he’d most likely never been touched with affection. Heaven was hardly a place where one might grasp a hand or sink into a hug, and he imagined Hell was even less so.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m sorry,” he said again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Look, stop that. No point being maudlin.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Of course, I …”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“If you say you’re sorry again, I’m going to slap you with one of these wings.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aziraphale laughed a bit at that, and kept combing. When his fingers accidentally brushed across the base of Crawly’s wings, the demon gave an obvious shudder. He laughed, reaching back and resting his hand comfortably on Aziraphale’s knee.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Steady on, angel. That’s probably forbidden.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aziraphale laughed too, leaning forward and resting his head between Crawly’s magnificent wings, wrapping his arms around the demon. Neither of them spoke, but an unspoken understanding passed between them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>When Crawly got up to leave several minutes later, it was all Aziraphale could do to refrain from asking him to stay. But they both knew that wasn’t wise, and so he let him go.</em>
</p><hr/><p>Aziraphale sighed softly, reliving the memory and wondering if Crowley ever thought about that day. As he got up to make another pot of tea, having drunk the first one like it was going out of fashion, he carefully manifested his wings in the physical world, being careful not to knock over any books. Just to see … just to check. </p><p>Sure enough, the entire bottom row of feathers on each wing was black. They had been that way ever since he’d groomed Crowley’s wings in Mesopotamia. Aziraphale reached to touch one charcoal feather with soft reverence. He knew, somehow, that the feathers contained Crowley’s energy, in a bond so deep and intimate that he hardly knew what to do. He had to tell Crowley. He had to. They finally had some breathing space ... there had never been a safer time to tell him.</p><p>He was just so afraid to bridge that gap. What if the unbidden closeness bothered Crowley? Worse, what if they weren't as safe as he hoped, and he somehow put the one he loved more than anything in danger?</p><p>Feeling trapped and helpless, Aziraphale tried to focus on getting ready to meet Crowley, telling himself that it would be fine. It would all be fine. He just had to have some courage and stop tying himself in a knot, that was all. Yes. Perfectly tickety boo.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading and commenting. I'm sorry for being a day late with this chapter! ♥</p><p>Join us next week for chapter three :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. You're In My Veins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When Aziraphale starts to feel anxious, Crowley is there to support him.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You alright, angel?”</p><p>“What? Of course, dear boy, tip top.”</p><p>“If you say so.” Crowley was watching him with concern from across the table in the ultra modern Japanese-Scottish fusion restaurant Crowley had picked for them. “Only last time I took you here, you made such indecent sounds over the soft shell tempura crab with whisky sauce, that I thought we’d be thrown out.”</p><p>Aziraphale felt himself flushing. He remembered the way Crowley had rubbed his back and slid his hand around his waist as they stood before the mirror in Crowley’s bathroom. Their interactions were starting to feel like nothing so much as flirting, and it made Aziraphale’s chest tighten with panic. </p><p>He wanted more with Crowley. Of course he did. And now they were a bit safer he was determined to have it, if Crowley felt the same way.</p><p>But the changes to his wings, and the brief change to his eyes (though that hadn’t happened again), felt like a terrible secret, as if they were far more intimate already, than Crowley realised. </p><p>It didn’t seem fair to Crowley. Aziraphale thought that perhaps he ought not to tell him yet after all. Perhaps he ought to figure out why it had happened, so he could present Crowley with a solution.</p><p>“So what did you want to tell me?” Crowley interrupted his train of thought. Aziraphale secretly cursed himself for telling Crowley that he had something he wished to talk to him about. </p><p>“Oh, I … got new sofas for the bookshop. You know how I feel about changing things, but they really were getting rather lumpy after so many years.”</p><p>“That’s … that’s great, angel.” Crowley frowned at him, and Aziraphale could hardly blame him. But this was what they did, wasn’t it? Crowley waited with a patiently outstretched hand until Aziraphale was ready to take it. This time he was determined to reach out first. But he was so afraid, and he could hardly explain why, even to himself. </p><p>“I’m feeling rather tired,” he told Crowley, not untruthfully. “I might skip dessert for once and retire early, dear boy.”</p><p>“Sure …”</p><p>Before Crowley could say anything further, Aziraphale paid the bill, adding a generous tip, and asked for their coats from the cloakroom. Out on the bustling Soho street, the sounds of traffic and the glow of headlights and neon shop signs were like a city lullaby to which he had become accustomed. </p><p>“What’s wrong, angel?” Crowley asked as soon as they were on the street. "I know you. Tell me what’s on your mind so we can argue about it for half an hour, then drink ourselves silly.”</p><p>“It’s nothing my dear, just a little tired.”</p><p>“Aziraphale, c’mon. After all we’ve been through, don’t shut me out when we … we …”</p><p>Aziraphale wanted to ask, <em>when we what</em>? But he couldn’t quite make himself do it. </p><p>“I … I need some time,” he managed to stutter out. “I am a little concerned about … about … Crowley please I can’t talk about this yet. I’m not ready.”</p><p>Crowley reached out and stroked Aziraphale’s hair softly, and the angel thought he might simply crumble in on himself like a sandcastle under the weight of the tide.</p><p>“You in trouble, angel? Or pain?”</p><p>“No … no nothing like that. Just … just  …”</p><p>“Anxious?”</p><p>Aziraphale went silent then, mouth working but no words coming out.</p><p>“Come home with me.” Crowley stepped closer and rubbed his thumb over Aziraphale’s cheekbone. “We don’t have to talk about anything. Just come back, we’ll have some wine, you can read or whatever. No need for you to be alone unless you really want to be.”</p><p>“No … no I don’t,” Aziraphale admitted. Crowley looked pleased at that, as if he’d just won a prize. </p><p>It was good to have company, Aziraphale had to admit, as he sat on the sofa Crowley had insisted on miracling him this time, sipping a crisp white wine. True to his word, Crowley didn’t press him to talk about what was on his mind, and they passed a lovely evening debating whether the Kindle was from Hell (a terrible thing to do to books, dear boy!) or Heaven (all the knowledge in one place, angel!)</p><p>Sometime around dawn, Crowley stood up, stretched and yawned widely enough that Aziraphale was reminded of the mobile jaw he had in his snake form.</p><p>“Need to nap for an hour or two, angel.” He said apologetically.</p><p>“I hope you rest well, dear boy." Aziraphale replied, as warmly as he could, hoping to reassure Crowley that he was perfectly happy to be alone for a while.</p><p>Crowley nodded, then suddenly walked to the sofa, kneeling in front of it and taking hold of both Aziraphale’s hands. The feel of his long fingers entwined with Aziraphale’s own was like the shock of fireside heat after being out on a frigid day, the sensation a mix of beautiful relief and sharp pain. </p><p>“You can tell me anything, angel. You know that, right?”</p><p>“Of course, dear boy.”</p><p>“Alright then.” Crowley nodded, thumb rubbing gently across the back of Aziraphale’s hand. “I’ll see you in the morning then, yeah?”</p><p>Aziraphale gave what he knew was a watery and unconvincing smile. But then a little spark of bravery flared in him, and he leaned forward, planting a brief but tender kiss on Crowley's cheek, to a surprised and delighted sound, and a sudden tighten of Crowley's grip on his hand.</p><p>“I’ll be here.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading and commenting ♥</p><p>This is just a short, simple chapter. As an anxiety sufferer myself, I wanted to give Aziraphale space to be anxious, and to feel seen and understood.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. You Catch A Glimpse Of Sunlight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Safe in Crowley's flat, Aziraphale dreams of his demon. But there are truths demanding to be told, and they're coming out whether Aziraphale wants them to or not.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dervila">Dervila</a> for inspiring this story for the Reverse Bang, and for the stunning art that appears in this chapter too!</p><p>And as always a huge thank you to my inimitable beta <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraworos">Mira</a>, for making this fic the best version of itself.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Left alone, Aziraphale felt content to make himself some tea this time and curl up on the sofa with the thick, dove-grey blanket Crowley had kindly left for him. He laughed softly as he spotted his favourite copy of Emma lying innocently on a small table beside the sofa. Perhaps it was the build up of tension, or perhaps it was simply the relief of being in Crowley’s space once more, but before long he found his eyes drifting closed. Putting his book aside, Aziraphale removed his shoes and curled on the comfy sofa on his side, pulling the blanket over him.</p><p>His dreams took him back to a night he would never forget.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>It was 1901, and Crowley had insisted on having a telephone installed in both his Mayfair dwelling, and in Aziraphale’s bookshop. He’d called Aziraphale, clearly drunk and upset, ranting unintelligibly about Heaven and Hell and the ineffable plan.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Concerned, Aziraphale had rushed to Crowley’s home. When he knocked on the door, he was greeted by an irritable, “Yessss angel, come in already.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Entering the townhouse, Aziraphale had found a disgruntled-looking Crowley in full snake form, lying on his desk with a bowl of wine next to him, into which he was occasionally dipping his head and slurping.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Drowning your sorrows, dear? And how on earth did you telephone me?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Phoned you before I ssssswtiched form, didn’t I?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I see.” Aziraphale perched on an ornate but rather uncomfortable chair. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Just wanted some company, alright? I’m pissed off with the lot of ‘em, Aziraphale. You know what they wanted me to do today? Tempt some fucking aristocrat to lull their perfectly nice kids into a false sense of security, then leave them without their inheritance. Families are supposed to … ssssupposed to … fuck it, angel, don’t you ever jusssst get bored of it all?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Quite frequently, dear boy.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“How’dyouhandleit?” Crowley slurred, slithering from the desk to the floor with a heavy thump and making his way towards Aziraphale.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aziraphale thought about that for a long time while Crowley watched him, head weaving rather drunkenly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I try to do good where I can, find good where I can, and not run afoul of the other angels more than I can help.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Crowley paused as if considering this, then heaved a sigh that seemed to start at his tail and overtake his entire body.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m gonna ask you something,” he slurred. “And you can say yes or no, whatever, but if word ever getssss out that I asked, I sssswear I will eat your favourite books. All of ‘em.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Dear, should you at least sober up first?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Nuh. Not for this. I want you to hold me. That’sssss all. Just want a goddamn hug, alright?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aziraphale couldn’t help tearing up at that. Hugging was a part of being in a human body that he genuinely enjoyed, with the handful of friends he’d made over the years. But he’d never hugged Crowley. Never known when or if it would be ok to suggest it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’d love that,” he said honestly. “And of course I’m not going to tell anyone, Crowley, really!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Crowley hissed out a laugh at that, nodding as if to concede the point, before boldly climbing the leg of Aziraphale’s pants and then the front of his shirt, finally coming to rest draped around Aziraphale’s shoulders, his head tucked into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, and the rest of his long shimmering body coiled in the angel’s lap. Aziraphale carefully held Crowley against him, stroking his back every so often. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. But there was a peace between them, a contentedness that Aziraphale had never known before or since.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Aziraphale awoke to the soft rush of traffic outside, and the warmth of the blanket piled over him. Sitting up groggily, he unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and glanced down at his wrists. As he’d expected, his wrists bore patches black scales, wrapped around like bracelets. It had happened for the first time when he got home after that night in 1901, and whenever he'd seen Crowley in snake form since then. He’d always managed to hide it from Crowely - after all, he always wore long sleeves. </p><p>“Angel?”</p><p>Oh. Oh, Lord. Perhaps he hadn’t seen -</p><p>But one look at Crowley’s gaze, fixed in shock on Aziraphale’s wrists, made it clear that yes, he had seen. </p><p>“Angel? Fuck, are you … are you hurt, have I hurt you …?”</p><p>Crowley was on his knees before the sofa, grasping Aziraphale’s wrists and staring at them with a deep frown.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale whispered, his voice barely audible. Crowley looked up at him, his uncovered eyes an intense, burning yellow.</p><p>“What for?” he said, his voice low and urgent. The look in his eyes was making Aziraphale’s heart dance the tango inside his chest.</p><p>“The scales … and um … I also … my wings …” Struggling to explain, Aziraphale simply opened them and let Crowley see for himself. He’d seen the scales, so it seemed nonsensical to try and keep his wings secret. Crowley’s eyes went wide at the sight of the twin rows of black feathers, and it was several long, searingly tense moments, before he looked back at Aziraphale’s face.</p><p>“How? Why?”</p><p>Aziraphale wanted to answer him, but how could he? He didn’t understand it himself. </p><p>“I don’t know.” He admitted.</p><p>Crowley nodded slowly as if that was quite alright, as if he was happy to let it be a mystery for now at least. And then he surged up and kissed Aziraphale so hard that the sofa scooted back, and Aziraphale had to cling to Crowley’s shoulders just to keep himself moored. As they kissed, Crowley curled his fingers around Aziraphale’s forearms, fingers brushing the scales. Aziraphale was lost. He was free-falling through the flames and stars inside Crowley, slipping inside his skin as easily as he had the night of their switch. </p><p>“May I?” he whispered softly against Crowley’s lips. “I want … I want to …”</p><p>“Anything, angel,” Crowley growled softly back, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale as if he’d never let go.</p><p>With a sigh of relief, of longing so deep it had become woven into the fabric of his being, Aziraphale untethered himself from his corporation and let himself expand into the fullness of his celestial form. Before another moment could pass, he reached for Crowley, entangling himself in and through every serpentine loop and star-studded wheel of his immense, beautiful, occult form.</p><p>“Angel … “ It was a plea, a cry that seemed to come from everywhere around him at once and penetrate every atom of his being. </p><p>Aziraphale was subsumed in Crowley’s sheer bliss at their joining. He knew a moment of panic when Crowley pressed deeper into him, letting their true selves entwine, and he knew Crowley could see what he’d been hiding since the body swap. That part of Crowley’s energy had stayed behind, that Aziraphale’s multitude of wings were all scattered with stars, his swirls of celestial energy patterned with scales.</p><p>“Aziraphale.” Crowley’s voice in that space was ancient, multi-layered, filled with smoke and nebulae and the birth of life and the heat of temptation. “When …?”</p><p>Aziraphale was floating and falling and couldn’t make words. And so, he sent images and feelings. The black feathers in his wings after Bablyon, the deep peace and love he felt at seeing them. How he treasured them. How the sight of the scales on his wrists after that night in Mayfair thrilled him. How he had longed to tell Crowley, but been so afraid to put him in danger. And then, at last, the whole truth, that during the body swap he had been so overcome with love for Crowley that he had overstepped, that he had embraced Crowley so deeply that he’d returned with stardust on his wings. </p><p>As Crowley twined around Aziraphale, brushing against his multitude of feathers, making him shudder and cry out, Aziraphale found it wasn’t scary at all to tell Crowley the truth. It was a relief to admit how Aziraphale loved him, had always loved him. To whisper against Crowley, to let his multi-layered voices sing praises against every inch of the demon and tell Crowley that he was beautiful, that Aziraphale had always and would always revere him.</p><p>When Crowley breathed love into every curve of celestial light and swoop of feather in return, Aziraphale knew he was home. </p><p>As they fell back into their earthly forms, still kissing hard and panting against each other, Aziraphale was shocked to feel his teeth sharpen slightly into small fangs. </p><p>“Interesting,” Crowley said breathlessly against his mouth. “All the better to bite me with.”</p><p>Aziraphale laughed against him, nipping the demon’s lip. “You … everything you saw, the feathers, the scales, I … Crowley, is it really ok?”</p><p>“Why wouldn't it be ok?” Crowley asked between lingering kisses. “S’long as you don’t mind it.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div><p>“It’s so intimate,” Aziraphale breathed as Crowley pulled him closer, kissing a line down his jaw and biting softly at his neck. “Feels like I stole part of you without asking.”</p><p>“Can’t steal part of me when I’m all yours anyway.” Crowley countered. When Aziraphale reached for him, Crowley’s expression softened completely.</p><p>“Do you …. Do you want me to give those parts of you back?” Aziraphale asked quietly.</p><p>“Do you want to?”</p><p>“N … no. No, unless you wish it. I … I treasure them, Crowley, I adore having parts of you with me. I … I love that you have changed me. That I have literal evidence of how deeply you have touched me, how close we have become.”</p><p>Crowley smiled at that, the kind of smile that felt like a bright moon bursting from behind midnight storm clouds. </p><p>“Still want to sneak off home, or can I tempt you into spending the day with me?” he asked, bending to trace his tongue slowly over the scales at Aziraphale’s wrists, making him shiver.</p><p>“You can tempt me into spending as long with you as you would like, my dear.”</p><p>“Mmm …” Crowley kissed him again, as if he couldn't stop, as if now that he had this, he couldn’t possibly let go for a second. “Let’s start with forever and see where we go from there.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for coming on this journey with Dervila and I! I've loved reading your thoughts along the way.</p><p>If any of you reading this happen, like Aziraphale and I, to suffer with anxiety, I want you to know that I see you, and you're doing better than you think, even if it doesn't feel like it. Just getting through the day with it makes you a badass IMHO. And I hope you got a little vicarious comfort through Crowley's kindness and understanding ♥</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Bonus art</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dervila blessed me with this beautiful bonus art piece, showing Aziraphale exploring the dark feathers in his wings!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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